sleep
by ruatcaelum
Summary: As he opened his eyes, blinking away sleep, Mitchell decided he was sure of two things: one, it was definitely not morning yet, and two, there was a ghost in his bed.


Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Spoilers: No specifics, general BH knowledge.

As he opened his eyes, blinking away sleep, Mitchell decided he was sure of two things: one, it was definitely not morning yet, since the only light filtering through his curtains was the dim light from the streetlamp outside, and two, there was a ghost in his bed.  
He sat up slightly, squinting in the bad light. 'Annie?' He asked, voice raspy from sleep.  
The grey-clad ghost beside him turned, and he could see the apologetic smile she gave him in the light that bounced off her smooth face.  
'Hey,' Was all she said in reply, and as his eyes adjusted to the light he realised she wasn't actually in his bed, she was in fact lying on top of the sheets on the side he wasn't on, her head on the pillow next to his, her hands, fiddling with each other, folded neatly across her stomach. The streetlight gave her, from his point of view, a silver silhouette that made her seem all the more a ghost, to him.  
'Um...' He propped himself up on one shoulder, running his hand through his tangled hair. 'Can I just ask... Why are you on my bed?'  
She seemed much more comfortable with the situation than he was; she shrugged. 'Well, you said I should at least try and sleep, and it was either here or George's.' Seeing the look on his face, she went on. 'And don't even start about the sofa. I've never been able to sleep on sofas. It's weird, I know, but these things definitely follow on from life to death.'  
He just looked at her bizarrely; she could be quite strange when she wanted to be.  
'Right,' Was all he said, and she finally picked up on his mood.  
'I'm sorry, is this weird, me being here? Honestly, I'm not trying to creep you out anything, I was just...' He imagined the smile that painted her lips right now would mean she would be blushing, were she alive. 'Lonely.' She finished. 'And I thought maybe you were too.'  
He had no reply to this; he didn't know whether to be alarmed by this, a girl who could render him speechless, something that didn't happen too often, or touched by her care for him; instead, he paused for a second, deliberating, and she internally cringed. Damn. She'd really done it now. But, instead of telling her to leave or shifting to the very edge of the bed in a subtle way of telling her to go away, instead he just lay back on the bed and put one arm around her, holding her cold body closer to his. Not objecting to such a move, Annie snuggled closer into him, curling up beside him on the covers, resting her head on his chest.  
'Hope you don't mind,' She murmured, looking up at him with dark eyes, seeing his droop with the call of sleep.  
'Course not,' He mumbled back, tightening his arm around her.  
Annie contentedly closed her eyes and, for the first time since her rather untimely death, fell asleep.

Perfect, George thought angrily to himself; we're going to be late. Again.  
It was still early in the morning; the birds in the street outside had only just commenced their melodious calls and traffic was only just beginning to echo through some distant streets, but George and Mitchell were due for the morning shift. George had been up with the lark, as usual, but was surprised not to see his housemate down with him.  
Taking the stairs two at a time George sprinted upstairs to Mitchell's door, and was about to tap impatiently on the scruffy door, when it opened and Mitchell darted out, quickly closing the door behind him.  
George was momentarily caught out. 'How did you-' He started, but Mitchell interrupted.  
'I heard you coming,' Was his impatient reply, his expression reflecting his tone. 'Listen, I know what you're going to say- remember, I switched my shift yesterday. I'm not due in for a couple more hours.'  
George did remember, now he came to think about it. 'Oh. Yes. Care to tell me why, though?'  
Mitchell shifted uneasily on his feet, lowering his voice. 'I dunno, Graham asked me if I could. I wasn't exactly going to say no to a couple hours extra sleep, was I?'  
George nodded, accepting this. 'Right. I suppose I should be off then. I'll see you later, yeah?'  
Mitchell pursed his lips, stepping forward as if to cajole George towards the stairs- suddenly, two things hit George at once. Firstly, Mitchell really did seem eager for George to head off to work; more specifically, away from his room. Secondly, Annie was nowhere to be seen this morning- something he hadn't noticed due to him having been in such a rush. A suspicious look crossed George's face.  
'Yeah, you should. I'll meet you there, we can come back together later.' Mitchell replied.  
'Hold on one second.'  
Mitchell swallowed visibly.  
George's tone switched to one of false casualness. 'You, er, seen Annie this morning?'  
Mitchell shook his head, taking an instinctive step back towards his door; defensive, almost.  
There was a pause in which both men regarded each other- then suddenly, with more speed then Mitchell would have ever put past him, George was diving for Mitchell's door. Mitchell made a valid attempt to stop him, but George had already opened the door and was looking inside before Mitchell could yank him back by the collar and slam the door closed with as little sound as such an action could be performed.  
George's mouth was hanging open- he had seen the girl curled up on the covers looking more peaceful in sleep than he would have ever imagined she could look; his focus swung back to Mitchell, and he ignored the vehemently irate expression on his face.  
'Oh my God,' He positively squeaked at him.  
Mitchell had reclaimed his stance outside the door. 'Jesus would you keep it down, George?' He hissed.  
'You- you-' He started, but Mitchell interrupted.  
'I didn't sleep with her, George.' He could tell what the other was thinking; it was written all over his face.  
'But she-'  
'I didn't sleep with her George,' He repeated, positively growling at him now.  
'Then why the hell is she in your bed!' He demanded, and Mitchell glared at him once more in an attempt to tell him to keep his voice down.  
'I told her she needed to try and sleep, right? So, she decided to use my bed. Honestly, that is all that happened. Now, will you please keep your friggin' voice down! Let her sleep.'  
George still looked dubious. 'Yeah, I'm sure that was the only reason she picked your room, your bed.' His face was positively flushed with the effort of getting such words out. 'Even I'm not that blind, Mitchell. I'm off, now. See you later.'  
And with that, he was turning away, off down the stairs again and was out the front door within the minute.  
Mitchell turned back to his door as he heard the front door close softly downstairs. With one tentative hand, he reached out to re-enter the room, peering round the door first. An almost sad smile crossed his face as he took in the ghost in there; Annie was now awake, still curled up on his bed, still partially consumed by the shadow of night as the only thing that was picked out by the dim sunlight that managed to enter the shaded window was her two sparkling eyes. A sweet, cautious smile awaited him as he fully entered the room.  
'Sorry if I woke you,' He said softly, moving to sit on the end of the bed.  
Annie sat up and hugged her knees. 'S'alright,' She replied, smiling more widely at him.  
'You sleep much?' He asked after a moment, one hand running through his hair as it so often did. She compressed a smirk.  
'Yeah, actually.'  
His eyes, all of a sudden, danced, obviously pleased his idea had come to fruition. 'Dreams?'  
She looked thoughtful, the ever-growing light in the room picking up the line of her cheekbone as she tilted her head slightly. 'Hmmm,' Was her non-commital reply.  
He frowned, shifting his weight further up the bed towards her as he leaned on his side. She spoke, again, before him, though.  
'How about you?'  
He dropped her gaze and just shrugged.  
'You turn a lot in your sleep, you know. You're really quite a restless sleeper, for a member of the undead.' He smiled at this, looking back up to he eye-level. 'I was worried,' She admitted, and the humour in the room disappeared- it was her turn to look away. 'I thought you were having a nightmare or something. I was...' She paused, searching for the right word. 'Scared.'  
He frowned at her, eyebrows creasing over his nose. 'I'm sorry,' He murmured, and, almost in a reflex action, moved up the bed to pull her into his arms, hugging her reassuringly, pressing a kiss to her hair. 'I'm glad you tried,' He whispered, and she nodded against his chest.  
'Do you think George still thinks we slept together?' She suddenly asked abruptly, and he instantly tensed against her. So she'd heard everything. Great.  
'Let him think what he likes. He'll probably sulk around the hospital for a couple of hours before realising he's being stupid. It'll all be fine before you know it.'  
Annie wasn't convinced, pushing back in his arms slightly to look at him properly. 'Why would he suggest it, anyway?'  
Mitchell was beginning to become more than a little uncomfortable with the situation; his eyes searched hers, yet all he could find was a resounding innocence that made him want to cry and laugh at the same time; she was an enigma to him, utterly and resolutely.  
'You know George and his imagination,' He was aware his voice had dropped back to a startingly husky-sounding whisper.  
She acted as if she hadn't heard him, it seemed; her piercing eyes continued to search his, almost disconcertingly, and he was suddenly all too aware of his arms tight around her body. He slacked his grip, just a fraction, but it was enough for her to notice; seemingly with startling speed, she was suddenly kissing him, one hand on his cheek, her cool fingertips tingling against his stubbly skin.  
He was shocked, at first; the randomness of such an embrace stalled him for a few seconds as he put two and two together; why it was his bed she chose, why George had seemed so unconvinced, her probing questions.... Within seconds he was kissing her back, and suddenly, fuelled by his eager response, all innocence he had thought he had seen in her was gone and she was pulling them both into a kneeling position, pulling his body flush against hers as her other hand found the small of his back.  
One hand crept into her black curls, tangled and matted slightly by sleep, the other sliding round her waist as he met her feverish passion with just as fierce a response, relishing in her cool lips and body as an oasis from the normal burning blood and scorching bloodlust he had to face; he wanted her as much as she was making it evident she wanted him.  
The only thing he found irritated him about this situation, he realised, as he pushed her down flat onto the bed and began to trail kisses down her neck, was that it had been George, of all people, who had pointed this out to him.

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